


Slow Dance

by clairelizabeth



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Fluff then angst, Heavy pining, So Close by Jon McLaughlin, Songfic, The Crimes of Grindelwald, some alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairelizabeth/pseuds/clairelizabeth
Summary: Suddenly aware of all the affection permeating the ballroom between each dancing couple, as well as of Newt’s presence beside her, Tina began to look anywhere but towards the Magizoologist’s direction, trying to busy herself with thinking about how beautiful the ballroom looked. Knowing that the sight of Leta with his older brother must be breaking him, she didn’t want Newt to feel obligated to ask her to–“Tina?”Something about the softness of his voice made her unable to keep herself from turning to him. She gulped upon seeing the look in his eyes. “Yes?”“Would you like to dance?”





	1. Chapter 1

Tina Goldstein gave a frustrated huff as she paced around the room she’d been offered to stay in at the Scamanders’ estate. It was a Saturday afternoon in late March 1927, and she had been in England for only a little over a day. The day before, she and a few other aurors from MACUSA accompanied President Picquery to an emergency international conference at the Ministry of Magic concerning Grindelwald’s recent escape from MACUSA. Based on several reports from both wizarding and no-maj newspapers, the dark wizard was now most likely in Europe.

The conference ended rather late, which they’d anticipated given the urgency of the situation, and while it had already ended, Tina stayed behind and was due to return to New York tomorrow at noon as she had been invited to Theseus Scamander and Leta Lestrange’s engagement party by none other than Newt Scamander.

The two of them had kept a steady correspondence ever since Newt departed New York last December. Over time the letters grew longer, and before Tina knew it, Newt asked her to accompany him to his brother’s engagement party. She wrote back after Picquery agreed to let her go; a few weeks later, Grindelwald escaped, prompting her to be in England a full day in advance.

Earlier that day she and the Magizoologist met at the Leaky Cauldron, where she had just checked out from (MACUSA would only cover its employees’ expenses for a one-night stay that was just enough for the conference; Picquery told her as much when she allowed her to stay in England another day) though she gladly would have paid for another night if Newt hadn’t _insisted_ she stay at his family’s home in Hampshire.

It was the first time they’d seen each other in three months, and both had changed in some slight ways since then. She had a new wardrobe and a new hairstyle. His hair was still messy, and his face still freckled; and the only change to Newt’s wardrobe was a grey coat instead of the peacock blue one. And was it just her imagination or was he _more handsome_?!

Regardless, both took a few moments to take in each other’s presence and appearance; Tina at one point wondered whether Newt could hear her heart pounding from where he was standing. She had scarcely stopped thinking about him the whole time they’d been separated, and now that they were together again, she tried to take in every detail about him and tried to convince herself that she wasn’t in fact imagining this, as she had done so many times in the last three months. _He was here_.

“Hello,” he said eventually, with a smile that seemed to light up his whole face.

She couldn’t help but beam right back at him, and hadn’t realized she’d been biting her lip until she opened her mouth to reply with, “Hi.”

The two had brunch in a corner of the pub, where he pulled out from his case (now enchanted with more protective charms to keep even the Niffler from escaping, he assured her) a copy of his book and handed it to her. The first copy printed, he told her. Her heart fluttered, and taking the thin scarlet book into her hands, she gasped when she laid her eyes on the gold lettering of the title. _Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them _. It was the title she suggested when the two of them were down in his suitcase on his last night in New York. 

(After she helped him feed the creatures for the evening, she followed him into the shed where he’d laid out several loose pages of his manuscript on the desk. There was one page that had at the top center the words “ _Fantastic Beasts_ ” and below it were several scribbles that had been crossed out: “ _and How to Care For Them_ ”, “ _and Why They’re Important_ ”, among many others.

“My publisher and I have agreed to call it ‘Fantastic Beasts’ but he wants me to come up with an extension; he says it might make the book stand out more,” he told her as he looked at the page in his hand. “But as you can see, I’ve been struggling to make any real progress in that area. 

Frowning in thought, she looked at the paper he was holding for a few more moments before tentatively gesturing to the other papers on the desk. “May I?”

“Of course.”

After some moments of them perusing the loose pages on the desk, Tina noticed a pattern. “What about ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’?” He turned to her then, looking up from the page he was holding with a slightly questioning look on his face. She wanted to hit herself for suddenly feeling embarrassed under his gaze so she kept talking. “It’s just–um...well, in most of these sections you mention where the beasts come from, where they can be found; and I think that, while you _do_ talk a lot about how to care for them and how to approach them–and as important as that is–maybe a better way of getting their attention would be telling your readers you know where the beasts can be found. And then they’d read the book and learn about how to care for them and approach them too.”

The silence she was met with after she finished talking made her want to squirm. Newt’s gaze had fallen to the pages on the desk, and while he seemed to be thinking about her suggestion, she couldn’t help but think she’d overstepped and given him unsolicited (and possibly poor) advice. “I’m sorry, that’s….you don’t have to–” 

She stopped when he took the brown leather notebook and opened it to rip off a blank page from the back. Then taking a quill, he began to write something. When he finished, he lifted it to reveal the title she suggested. “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,” he read, looking at the words intently. And then, the corners of his lips turned up to form a smile, and his shining green eyes looked directly into her brown ones for half a second before darting away again. “Yes, I think that would do very well.”)

Three months later, here she was, holding the finished product in her hands. She knew it was the product of years’ worth of hard work, and she was very proud of him. _He’s finally done it_.

Over brunch, the two talk about the book (though it had only been released for little over a week, it was doing _extremely_ well, much to Newt’s joy _and_ embarrassment), the conference and Grindelwald’s escape, as well as Queenie and Jacob, who still showed no signs of remembering what had happened last December. At some point, Pickett also emerged from Newt’s breast pocket, interrupting their conversation when Tina spotted him. She was delighted to see him, and he seemed just as delighted to see her. This lead Tina to ask about his other creatures, who according to Newt were all doing very well (the Niffler was still as incorrigible as ever though, he’d said, and though it had been months he hadn’t quite found it in himself to take down the Thunderbird area, for he missed Frank very much). 

After their filling meal, Tina offers to pay for her half of the bill, but Newt insists on paying for the both of them. He then led her out the pub and into the back of the establishment where, after tapping a brick wall with his wand three times, he proudly introduced her to Diagon Alley, smirking at how she gaped at the sight before her. Arm in arm, he led her down the busy alleyway and gave her a tour, walking slowly and giving a brief description of each shop. Their first stop was at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, where he bought a cone for each of them; she tried the Sticky Toffee Pudding flavor at his recommendation, while Newt ordered his “usual” Earl Grey & Lavender.

While they were enjoying their ice creams, the secondhand bookshop next to the ice cream parlour caught Tina’s eye, so she asked Newt if they could have a look around after they finished eating. Newt agreed, of course. She got a copy of _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_ while Newt bought a book called _Men Who Love Dragons Too Much_. Tina chuckled–she thought, a new edition of that book ought to be released that included Newt Scamander as one of the men in question.

After buying their books, she asked Newt where she could buy women’s apparel and accessories (because Queenie had asked her to get her something from London). He then took her to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, a shop with a purple exterior that sold everything from school uniforms and house scarves (she smiled when she caught sight of a bust with a yellow striped scarf similar to the one that Newt owned wrapped around its neck) to evening wear and even some jewelry (out of habit, she couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at Newt’s case, as if expecting the Niffler to sneak out of it at any moment). 

A shop assistant greeted them and offered to help Tina look around, so Newt told her to take her time and sat down on a couch in the middle of the shop next to two older wizards, each engrossed in his copy of _The Daily Prophet_. Tina wondered if Newt noticed that on the bottom right section of the cover page was a picture of him, smiling awkwardly behind a desk stacked with several copies of his book, while the text above the photo read “‘Fantastic Beasts’ sells out at Flourish  & Blotts for the second time since release”. If he did he gave no indication; he seemed content with looking about the shop from underneath his mess of hair, one hand still holding the handle of the suitcase he’d set on the floor next to his feet. Even with his greatcoat a greyer, more neutral color, he somehow still managed to stand out.

Even with a shop assistant helping her, Tina wasn’t sure she could trust herself to find something Queenie would love, though she knew her sister well enough, she didn’t know fashion very well, and Queenie’s preferences for clothes had also changed over the last few months, so she instead asked the shop assistant if they sold fabrics, which they thankfully did. If she couldn’t buy Queenie something ready-to-wear, she could at least get her something that would encourage her talent for dressmaking. She ended up purchasing a few yards each of dark red velvet and dark green cotton fabrics (she noticed that her younger sister wore less and less pink and more and more muted, darker colors as of late).

After leaving Madam Malkin’s, the pair continued their stroll down Diagon Alley, stopping right outside Flourish & Blotts, which had _Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them _ on their window display, and Tina could saw witches and wizards of all ages leaving the shop with their own copies. She looked over at Newt beside her and saw his face had turned beetroot. She smiled, and, sensing he was too embarrassed to go inside, tugged him by the arm so they could turn around. The best-selling author was now walking briskly and had his head ducked down lower than usual, and Tina immediately understood that he was afraid of being recognized.

When they reached a quiet corner near where they entered from, Newt checked his pocket watch. “So sorry about that,” he said, slightly out of breath. “I also don’t want to have to cut this short but I do have an interview with _The Daily Prophet_ later this afternoon, so…but I will be back in time for the party.”

“It’s fine,” she assured.

They went back inside The Leaky Cauldron, where they were to travel by Floo Network directly to the Scamander residence. Newt let Tina go first, and after the green flames had passed, she stepped out of a fireplace and into an ornately decorated drawing room, and for what felt like the millionth time that day, she found herself gawking at the new environment. One of the first things she noticed was a crystal candle chandelier, which hung above a couch facing the fireplace. The chairs were all beautifully upholstered and there were antique-looking vases filled with flowers on almost every small table. The walls were covered with intricately patterned wallpaper and displayed several wizarding portraits that were all enclosed in gold picture frames. There was an enormous mahogany door on the left side of the room that was decorated with gold detail and surrounded by a gold door frame. The windows, also surrounded by gold framing, were as big as the doors and were adorned with patterned curtains. The entire floor was carpeted.

A burst of green flames came from the fireplace as she gaped at the room, and when Newt stepped out, she shot him an incredulous look. “Newt....”

He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand – a gesture of bashfulness. “Yes, I know...it’s a bit much...but this is, erm...this is where I grew up.”

Suddenly the door burst open, and the two turned to see a tall man, impeccably dressed in a dark grey suit. “Ah, brother.”

“Theseus,” Newt greeted in a somewhat clipped tone. 

The man walked over to them, and once he was close enough, Tina saw the unmistakable resemblance: green eyes, freckled face, slightly reddish brown hair. But he was also very different from Newt: he was taller, broader, had a better posture, and whereas Newt’s voice was soft and mumbled and for the most part only in normal to louder volumes when addressing his creatures, his brother’s voice was a loud, clear, confident baritone. While both brothers had curly hair, Theseus’ was slicked back away from his face, giving a clear view of high cheekbones and a mischievous glint in his eyes, while Newt let his own hair dangle in a floppy mess of curls he could hide under if he wanted to.

“Tina, this is–” Newt began, but was promptly cut off by his brother.

“Theseus Scamander,” said the man, holding out his hand to Tina. “I’m Newt’s older brother. And you must be Miss Tina Goldstein from New York, the auror who helped him capture Grindelwald.”

“Yes,” she confirmed, shaking his hand; slightly surprised by what he already knew. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

“Thank you,” he seemed genuinely pleased to hear that. Then he shot Newt a quick smirk before looking back at her. “Newton’s told me _many_ great things about you.”

Tina’s eyes flickered over to see Newt’s face flush as he glared at Theseus. “I was just about to show her to her room; are mother and father home?”

“I’m about to meet them for lunch with Leta,” he replied as he walked over and took a handful of floo powder from a jar on the mantelpiece and stepped into the fireplace. “I’ll see you two later; try not to have too much fun before the party even begins,” at this both Newt and Tina blushed at the implication, and after one final smirk, Theseus uttered, “Lestrange manor,” then released his fistful of floo powder and was engulfed by green flames.

For a few seconds after he disappeared, Newt and Tina continued to stare at the empty fireplace, their cheeks still flaming. It was Newt who spoke up first, “So sorry about him...he’s infuriating, my brother.”

“It’s alright, I understand,” she assured. “Queenie is the same, sometimes. But at least he can’t read your mind, right?”

He chuckled at this, remembering his own encounters with the younger Goldstein sister. “No, quite right. Now follow me, please.”

He lead her out of the drawing room, and she trailed behind him, once again gaping as she took in the rest of the mansion. They passed by another large room that also had a fireplace and a large carpet covering most of the floor and was surrounded by marble archways on three sides. Tina looked up and could see the upstairs hallways; possibly that was where the bedrooms were located. They went up a staircase with a marble railing that matched the archways in the main hall to a corridor that had more portraits up on the wall; some of the subjects even greeted Tina as she passed, to which she would flash them a small smile.

Her room wasn’t too far from the staircase–thank _Mercy_ ; she’d have trouble finding her way back if it were–and Newt opened the door and allowed her to enter first. It was the most lavish bedroom she had ever seen. The walls were painted forest green, and the floor was unsurprisingly covered in a dark red carpet. To the right was a mahogany queen size bed that had on either side of it matching lamp shades perched on mahogany nightstands. Not far from the bed was another fireplace; smaller this time, and next to it was an armchair. Across the fireplace and flanked by two tall, curtained windows was a mahogany vanity set with three mirrors, and next to it a matching full-length mirror. There were smaller frames hung on the walls; some were paintings of beautiful gardens while others were wizarding photographs of Scamander ancestors and relatives.

“I’ve asked mother to give you a room not far from the staircase,” he said after she set her suitcase down on the bed and walked to one of the windows. “I understand it can be quite overwhelming if it’s your first time visiting.”

“Quite,” she said, turning around to face him with a smile on her face. Newt returned the smile, though his looked somewhat embarrassed.

“The washroom is here,” he pointed to the door on his left, “and if you need anything, there’s a bell on one of the nightstands you can use to ring for Dooky.”

“Dooky?” She asked, tilting her head in question.

“House elf,” he answered, not meeting her eye.

“Oh,” Newt being Newt didn’t look too pleased about the house elf situation, but something about the look on his face told her there wasn’t much he could do about it. It was a story for another day. 

A beat or two elapsed before Newt said, “Well, I’d best be off; the sooner I get there, the sooner it’ll be over. You’re welcome to roam the gardens and the library if you like.” Then he briskly turned around to leave.

“Newt, wait,” she called, and followed him to the doorway. He turned around to look at her, and she suddenly had trouble finding her words. “Thank you...for letting me stay here. You know, you really didn’t have to, but thank you. And also for showing me around Diagon Alley earlier. I know you’ve been very busy.”

He shook his head, his eyes looking to the floor. “It’s really no trouble. After all, it’s the least I could do for you after your hospitality in New York.”

He finally met her eyes when he finished that sentence, holding her gaze. As Tina’s heart rate increased, the rest of the world seemed to slow down. She wasn’t sure how long they’d been looking at each other when Newt raised a hand and mimicked his actions from the docks three months ago and touched a lock of hair on her cheek. Her breath hitched, and her skin seemed to tingle where he touched.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

Heart pounding faster, she couldn’t stop her small gasp. “What?”

He blinked a few times, as though realizing what he’d just said. “Erm...your–your hair. It...it suits you very well.”

She beamed at him, feeling her cheeks warm. “Thank you.”

As he continued to look at her his eyes seemed to blink only half way, and Tina wondered whether it was her only imagination making her think that he was looking at her the same way he would in her best dreams.

But then his hand was no longer touching her cheek and he said, “I’ll see you later,” with a small smile of his face.

“Yes,” she breathed, still smiling from ear to ear. His smile widened to match her own, and he turned to leave. She watched him go until he disappeared at a left turn down the hallway. Then she closed the door and let out a long breath; a warm, giddy feeling bubbled inside her, and she couldn’t help but let out a giggle. 

After letting her heartbeat slow, her eyes landed on her suitcase on the bed, and, remembering what she had in it, took off her coat and walked over to the bed. She set her coat down next to the case, opened the case and smiled when she saw her copy of Newt’s book atop her clothes, personal effects, and the materials she bought for Queenie. She walked to the side of the bed, toed her shoes off and perched herself on the pillows and headboard and spent the remainder of the afternoon reading the book from cover to cover.

 

\---

 

Presently, the book was on one of the nightstands, and Tina continued to pace around the room. Now that she had finished reading it, there was little to distract her from a nagging thought that had been on her mind since the conference ended the previous night.

While she was initially relieved and glad that she was allowed to stay behind and attend the party so she spend more time with Newt–especially since his earlier invitation for her to attend his book launch was sadly rejected due to her being neck-deep in paperwork–now that the party was only a little over an hour away, she wasn’t so sure anymore; especially considering the other people who would be attending this party.

Truth be told, it was the thought of just _one_ other person who was sure to be attending that had her so worried. An anxious weight pulled her spirits downward as she continued to ponder the likelihood of spending the engagement party watching Newt pine over his old friend (or perhaps something more) from school.

He hadn’t told her much about Leta save for a few words when she finally asked him at the docks (it was Queenie who told her about the picture the day after Grindelwald’s arrest at the subway), and he hadn’t mentioned how he felt about the engagement in his letters or in person. That didn’t soothe her worries in any way. Queenie was quick to add that Leta had badly taken advantage of Newt’s kindness when they were in school, and said nothing more on the matter, which Tina respected. But that didn’t soothe her worries much either, after all, _people change_.

She stopped her pacing at one of the windows, which showed a breathtaking view of the estate’s enormous backyard. While her eyes had set upon the gardens, ornate and beautiful with lush green hedges and a fountain surrounded by shrubs, she paid barely any attention to it. Instead, she thought back those words he uttered months ago.

 “ _I don’t really know what Leta likes these days...Because people change...I’ve changed. I think. Maybe a little._ ” 

She couldn’t deny the hope that blossomed in her chest when he said he’d changed, though she wished she could extinguish it. Even if Newt _had_ moved on from Leta, what were the chances he returned Tina’s feelings? In the week he stayed at hers and Queenie’s apartment, after Jacob walked out in the rain, she had been in the case a fair few times and seen the picture herself–one such instance was when she’d given him a suggestion for the title; the picture was nearby, and she’d tried her best not to look at it too much. There was no denying that Leta Lestrange was a beautiful girl. An _exquisitely_ beautiful girl, not unlike Tina’s own sister.

Tina had always thought herself plain and for the most part didn’t mind it. She didn’t mind Queenie getting more attention from boys; she and her sister had always been different, and she respected that. But something about seeing an exquisitely beautiful girl smiling flirtatiously in the picture Newt kept made her heart twinge unpleasantly. To Newt, perhaps, the smile was flirtatious and inviting; but to Tina, it seemed almost challenging, as though daring her to do something and all the while expecting her to fail at it.

Tina shook her head; it wasn’t logical or fair to feel threatened by someone she hadn’t met who had likely changed since then. After all, Leta was engaged to Theseus now, though Tina still felt immensely doubtful about bringing all this up to Newt.

She sighed, and continued to look out the window, this time trying to focus on the gardens instead. That was soon interrupted, however, when a speck in the late afternoon sky caught her eye. She squinted as it came into view. 

It was an owl. And it seemed to be headed towards her. She opened the window just in time, and the landed gracefully on it. It was a tawny owl, body covered in white and amber-colored feathers, wide black eyes looking about the room. Before getting the letter, Tina pulled out her wand from her trouser pocket and walked over to the mantelpiece where there was a small tea set. Grabbing a saucer, she cast a wordless _Aguamenti_ charm. She then walked to the vanity where she set the now water-filled saucer, beckoning the bird to come over with a tilt of her head. The bird followed and released the letter on the vanity table before dipping its beak into the saucer.

She recognized Newt’s handwriting on the envelope, and, opening it, found a short note inside.

_Dear Tina,_

_I hope you are settling in nicely and are feeling at home at my family’s residence. I apologize profusely but there has been a sudden slight change of plans: I have just received an urgent owl from my publisher, Mr. Worme, who has called me in for an equally urgent meeting today. I gladly would have declined and asked him to reschedule the meeting to a different date, but I am afraid Mr. Worme is very difficult to refuse. Rest assured, he has given me his word that the meeting will be brief, therefore I will be able to return to be with you at the engagement party, though I will be tardy. Please do not feel the need to wait for me to arrive for you to go down to the ballroom: you are very much welcome to begin without me and to help yourself to food and beverages. I do not want my tardiness to be too much of an inconvenience for you. Again, I apologize profusely for this turn of events and that it came about at such late notice. I give you my word that I will be there as soon as I can. I look forward to seeing you at the party._

_Yours,_

_Newt_

She couldn’t help but frown at the note (though the last two words had her blushing). Like him, she wasn’t one for attending parties, and his being there was the only thing that motivated her to attend.

Sighing, she walked to her bed where she’d lain out the dress she was to wear that night. Queenie had truly outdone herself with this one. The straight cut dark blue dress would drop down to her ankles. It had a bateau neck that extended out to cap sleeves that would drape loosely on her shoulders, and a see-through neckline peppered with beadwork–some of the most stunning she had seen from any dress of Queenie’s creation so far–that continued down to the hips and stopped abruptly at a black velvet sash that Queenie had sewn securely on to be knotted at the side. On the right hip just below the sash was a wand pocket (essential in any witch or wizard’s attire) that her sister added an Undetectable Extension Charm to, specifically telling Tina before she left New York that their mother’s locket (which Tina always wore) did _not_ go with the dress, so she expanded the inside of the wand pocket so that she could at least keep it in her pocket. Queenie threw in a pair of long black satin gloves to top off the look.

She knew she’d be far from being the belle of the ball, what with majority of the guests being some of the most affluent members of Britain’s wizarding society, but she could always trust that she’d feel secure (and perhaps even attractive) in anything her sister fashioned for her. With Queenie always being the one to dress more femininely, and making it a point to keep up with the latest trends and making clothes herself, she was naturally the one who helped Tina learn simple clothing alteration spells. Such spells proved especially useful during auror training when she had to sustain herself on top of setting aside money for Queenie’s last two years at Ilvermorny, and the time she had been demoted to the wand permit office, which prompted a significant reduction in her wages as well as in her rank. Both times left Tina without the luxury of buying more up to date and better fitting apparel for herself, so she turned instead to altering her late parents’ clothes to the bare minimum: sewing stray buttons onto their mother’s outdated blouses and adjusting the waist lines of their father’s oversized trousers to fit her with the spells she learned from Queenie.

Not long after she was reinstated as an auror, Queenie all but dragged her to a boutique and insisted she buy more fashionable and better fitting blouses and trousers for work, along with a sleek dark blue leather coat that hugged her slender frame nicely when all buttoned up (“ _You gotta dress the part, Teen. Show ‘em that you’re ready to be out in the field again. It’s not everyday you get your dream job back!_ ”).

Just days after the sisters went shopping to update Tina’s wardrobe, Queenie announced that she was headed out for a visit to the hairstylists’ to update her own hairstyle to smoother, bigger curls, and gave Tina the idea of getting a sleeker, shorter hairdo with fringe (“ _It’s how all the film stars are wearing their hair these days! The fringe would really bring out your eyes, and you ain’t gotta worry about curling it since it’s meant to be left the way it is,_ ”). Queenie hadn’t _pushed_ her to get the haircut–only heavily hinting how good she thought it would look on her sister–in the end it was Tina’s decision to have her haircut in that way, and a few days after Queenie had come home from the stylists’ with a new hairstyle, Tina did the same and was greeted by a joyfully squealing younger sister (“ _You look so beautiful, Teenie!_ ”). She had to admit she did indeed feel more confident, blushing and smiling at her sister’s reaction to her new hairdo. Queenie was not one to ever hide how she truly felt about something–or some _one_ , Tina mused–so she knew her sister meant what she said. Not only that, looking at the dress Queenie made for her, she was reminded once again never to doubt or question her sister’s aesthetic opinion (so then it would be better to _not_ wear the locket with the dress afterall). _If it has Queenie’s seal— or rather, squeal—of approval, or more importantly, if she_ made _the damn thing, then it looks good_.

Running her hands over the fabric of the dress, she sighed. She couldn’t back down now. Not when she was already there at the Scamanders’ estate with the party starting soon. Not when she promised Newt she’d be there with him. He needed her to be there.

She’d simply have to remind herself to ignore how much faster her heart would beat when Newt would so much as flash his green eyes at her, and remember how to breathe when he smiled at her. He asked for a companion for the ball, and that was all she would be.

She picked up her wand and, with a few flicks of her wrist, levitated the dress into the air while undoing the buttons on its back as well as those on the blouse she was currently wearing. _Time to get ready_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading my first fanfic for Fantastic Beasts and my first fanfic in years! I got the idea for this a few months ago after re-watching the ballroom scene from Enchanted (2007) and remembering a SnitchSeeker article that said there was a rumoured ballroom scene in CoG. Then teaser trailer gave us a glimpse of that ballroom scene, and while it's not been confirmed whether Newt and/or Tina will be there, we can all dream.
> 
> Some footnotes for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. The books Newt and Tina picked up at the secondhand book shop are both actual books from the wizarding world according to Pottermore. There's no telling if they'd both been released by March 1927, but "Men Who Love Dragons Too Much" in particular was just too tempting not to include.  
> 2\. According to Pottermore, the Floo Network is a way for witches and wizards to travel without the risk of breaching the Statute of Secrecy, and while we never see any floo travel in the first FB film, that information tells us it would make sense for American wizards to also make use of it.
> 
> Thanks again for reading and I'll see you in the next chapter, which hopefully will be up this time next week. That one's going to have the ballroom scene, which I'm excited for you all to read!
> 
> For now, I'd appreciate it if you left a review and let me know what you think! You can also find me on Tumblr with the same username.
> 
> Lastly, here's Tina dress because I feel like my description didn't quite do it justice:  
> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=1zgt4t4)


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter two! This one features a song from 2007 that I’ve shamelessly transported to 1927. I recommend you listen to [this](https://youtu.be/oWCbpnqlWOw) version of it; as much as I love the fully orchestrated movie version, this stripped down one is a nice departure and I also feel it’s more Newt and Tina.
> 
> For those of you expecting the tooth-rotting fluff I initially had planned…there’s been a change of plans, so please brace yourself for angst. I hope you’ll still read this and stick around for the long ending notes I’ve left you so I can explain.

As it turns out, the brief glimpses of the other rooms of the lavish mansion that Tina had seen earlier that day were just a warm-up for the ballroom. After much oscillation outside, she entered the large room and was once again astonished by grandeur. There were several windows as large as doors lined up on opposite sides of the room; the drapes were opened so that the vastness of both the night sky and the estate could be seen from inside. On the farthest side of the room, opposite the entrance of the ballroom, a stage had been set up where there was an orchestra of about ten musicians and a male vocalist. Near the entrance were several round tables with about eight to ten chairs each; she could see from where she was standing that there was an _absurd_ amount of utensils laid out for each guest. The guests themselves were scattered to the tables; the bar on the left side of the room worked by house elves – she found herself grimacing slightly on Newt’s behalf – and the dancefloor in front of the stage, where some had begun to dance to the sprightly music the orchestra was playing. Several waiters in uniform tuxedos carried around trays of beverages and hors d'oeuvres.

What _really_ took her breath away, however, was the ceiling. Two large crystal candle chandeliers (like the ones in the drawing room but much bigger) served as the main lighting sources, but between them in the middle of the ceiling appeared to be a painting of the night sky. But, as Tina walked forward to get a better look of it, she found that it was _moving_. It wasn’t just that the stars painted on it were twinkling, but that as she moved forward, the canvas itself seemed to move too; as though the painting was actually a hole in the ceiling, and the sky painted on it was the same sky outside. Amazed, Tina forgot herself for a few moments, walking forward and watching in disbelief as the view painted sky adapted.

She stepped backward and gave a small yelp when she bumped into someone. Quickly turning to apologize, her embarrassment grew when she saw it was Theseus, holding a flute of bubbling champagne; to make things worse, he was smirking at her. (She was beginning to think that a smirk was his default expression).

“Ah, Miss Goldstein,” he greeted, then, looking at the ceiling, “enjoying the view?” He was dressed stylishly in a grey tuxedo and waistcoat and black bow tie. The silver chain of his fob watch, dangling from a buttonhole on his waistcoat and disappearing behind his jacket, gleamed as it caught the light. His hair was still neatly slicked back, though slightly curlier than it had been earlier in the afternoon.

“Yes,” she admitted, blushing slightly at her being caught.

“We’ve managed to make it look similar to the one at Hogwarts, though obviously the one they have looks like a _real_ sky and not just a painting; much bigger too,” as he spoke of school, a look of fondness passed his features. When he looked to her again, the mischief in his eyes reappeared. “I’m sure my brother’s told you all about it in his letters.”

Tina groaned inwardly as she found herself blushing yet _again_ because of this man’s teasing – _how did he even know about the letters?_ – and she was about to reply when, after a brief glance about him, Theseus spoke up again.

“Speaking of, where is he?”

Relieved at the slight change of topic, she answered, “He had to attend a last minute meeting with his publisher, but he said he’d be here.”

“Ah,” the older Scamander brother acknowledged, looking somewhat disappointed. “Well, I certainly hope he doesn’t leave you waiting _too_ long. In the meanwhile, might I show you to the bar?”

She didn’t see how she needed to be _shown_ to the bar, as she could walk there by herself, but out of politeness and gratefulness that he was willing to keep her company for a little while (after all, he was so far the only person in this room that she knew) she accepted his offer with a nod and a smile.

When they reached the bar and each took a seat on a stool, she began, “Mr. Scamander–”

“Theseus, please,” he insisted, before taking a sip of his champagne.

“Theseus...how did you know about the letters?”

Her question made him smile knowingly, and he set his glass down on the bar table. “Newt is my brother; try as he might, there’s really not much he can hide from me, even though that’s certainly not what he thinks.”

She gave a nod of understanding, though was slightly surprised. Entering Newt’s world in England, she genuinely thought that the two brothers might be more distant towards each other, especially considering who Theseus was engaged to. Newt _did_ mention Theseus in his letters a few times, but usually in a tone of mild annoyance. As she was talking to said brother, she supposed that mild annoyance could also have been due to his incessant teasing. Or perhaps they _were_ distant but had come to some sort of agreement? Regardless, it wasn’t something she felt she could bring up at the moment.

“Anyway, you’re an auror, Miss Goldstein. We _pick up_ on certain things.”

Another nod comes from Tina, and in the slight pause that follows, she does, in fact, pick up on a look in the eyes of her fellow auror (Head of the Ministry’s Auror Department, in fact, according to one of Newt’s letters) that tells her there is something else he knows that she does not.

“Another such thing that I’ve picked up on,” he continues, the glint not leaving his eyes as he spoke, “is that you have been fortunate enough to receive the first printed copy of my brother’s book.”

This time she catches herself before her eyes widen, but her lack of verbal response gives it away. Theseus chuckles, and she sighs and looks down at her lap, cheeks aflame.

“Not to worry,” he assures with a lopsided grin, “I don’t have it in me to tell our mother that she only received the second copy.”

Not even bothering to ask how he picked up on _that_ , she finds she can only give him a grateful and embarrassed smile. Theseus smirks in return but stands up when something over Tina’s shoulder catches his eye. “If you’ll excuse me, I must see to the other guests. Help yourself to something to drink.”

She nods as he leaves, looks around the bar to see other witches and wizards chatting together, and sighs. She hoped Newt would be arriving soon. These kinds of things were more bearable when you had someone with you that you could run away with it from, even if running away only meant going off to a quiet corner so you could talk for the rest of the night. Or perhaps inside a suitcase?

One of the two house elves working the bar had come over to her, and she asked for a drinks menu. A piece of card flew into her hands from the behind the bar table. Thanking the elf, she scanned the list of beverages, calligraphed beautifully in gold ink. Never having been much of a party girl herself, there were few drinks on the menu she was familiar with or had heard of, and even less that she’d actually tried.

A hearty laugh nearby caught her attention, and she glanced up briefly from her menu and saw a group of three witches slightly older than her sipping cocktails and gossiping madly. They were only a few seats away, and though Tina tried to focus on the menu, it was difficult not to overhear what they were discussing.

“...well, as much as it pains me to admit, she _does_ look rather stunning tonight,” one voice said. Her accent, though clearly still English, was different from Newt’s – it sounded very high class. The vowels, though still rounded, were sometimes twisted oddly, and the accent made the speaker sound as though they were constantly sneering.

“Theseus on the other hand is looking _scrumptious_ ,” said a second witch, bearing a similar accent to the previous one. Another burst of giggles sounded from the group, and Tina had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

After a pause, the first woman chimed in again, her tone of distaste now coupled with shock. “Merlin’s _beard_ , is that Laurena?”

She hears the three women turn, the jangling of beaded necklaces and dresses. “Oh, it is!” a third voice spoke; this one was a little higher pitched and younger than that of the other two, but sounding no less contemptuous. “I must say she’s barely aged a day, which is rather impressive, considering…” Another pause after she trails off. Then she speaks up again. “Do you think Corvus is going to be here tonight?”

A snort sounds before Tina hears the first girl say, “I highly doubt it. Probably run off with another whore. Fellandra _swears_ he’s got bastards all over France.”

“ _No_ ,” the second girl gasped disbelievingly. “Even after he married that Tremblay girl?”

“Mhmm.”

“Oh, I remember when I first heard about him eloping with that Tremblay woman,” the third girl chimed in, “ _everyone_ at Hogwarts was talking about it – even the professors! Leta didn’t attend any of her classes for a _week_ because of the looks people were giving her.”

That caught Tina’s attention more than she wanted to admit, but suddenly the three girls hushed up, and from the corner of her eye, she saw them move away. Intrigued by their conversation, but also glad for the relative silence, she turned her focus back to the menu she’d been staring at but not reading.

Someone took a seat two seats away from her. Keeping her own eyes fixed on the menu, Tina heard a low, husky feminine voice say, “Turnip Wine, please.”

Wizarding drinks in England were so exotic, she thought. _Berry Ocky Rot, Dragon Barrel Brandy, Beetle Berry Whiskey_... They didn’t have Giggle Water listed, so she guessed that was something specific to the United States. Letting out a small sigh, she resigned to getting one of the few things she’d already tried. “Champagne please,” she requested when the house elf walked over to her, its tired eyes peering just above the bar table. After a snap of its finger, a flute smoothly flew in right in front of her, a bottle followed suit, pouring the bubbling drink. Tina had just wrapped a hand around her glass when she heard the husky feminine voice speak again.

“You don’t look like much of a drinker.” When Tina turned to her right, she recognized the woman immediately.

The three women were right: she did, in fact, look stunning. Her dress was strappy and low-cut and of shiny black silk that wrapped around her curvy, petite frame. Dangling diamond earrings matched the silver beadwork on her dress. Her sleek dark hair was elegantly pulled up and a black feather hair accessory fanned out behind her head. She was eyeing Tina with dark, inquisitive eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips.

She wanted to berate herself when she felt her heart started to pound anxiously in her chest. “No...no, I’m not,” she managed. _Was it_ that _obvious?_

The woman nodded once, then gave her a once over. After a pause, she leaned over and extended a hand over the stools between them. “Leta Lestrange.”

Tina hoped the small smile she gave didn’t look as anxious as she felt. She reached over and shook her hand. “Porpentina Goldstein. Congratulations on your engagement.”

“American,” said Leta, clearly intrigued, smile slightly widening and head tilting to the side. Tina can’t help but be vaguely reminded of the popular girls at Ilvermorny who used to pick on her. Oftentimes this was how she met them: they came up to her, eyed her with mischievous curiosity, and asked an innocent question or two until they found something they could use as an excuse (and as a tool) to spite her (with). “Tell me, Miss Goldstein – and I do hope you’ll excuse how rude this might sound – but what brings _you_ here?”

Tina was fumbling for an answer to that when Theseus came over, making her sigh inwardly in relief.

“Darling, there you are,” he smiled at her, then turned to Tina and gave her a polite nod. “Miss Goldstein.” There was no mischief in his eyes as there normally was, instead there was some slight worry as he looked between the two women. He cleared his throat. “Darling, this is–”

“I know,” Leta interjected, keeping her eyes on Tina. “I was just asking Miss Goldstein what brought her here, seeing as we’ve never met.”

“Well–”

“Newt Scamander,” Tina found herself blurting, saving Theseus the trouble. If she hadn’t been busy braving Leta’s gaze she would have seen the brief flash of anxiety in Theseus’ eyes. “He, um…he asked me to come.”

A flash of something crossed her features so quickly Tina wasn’t even sure what it was. Was it...sadness? Regret? But then a catlike smile slowly came to replace it, a look of understanding charged with mischief – _was a smirk her default expression too?_ “Well, it was lovely to meet you Miss Goldstein,” she finally said. She makes to leave with Theseus, putting a hand in the crook of his elbow, before stopping to add, “I trust you’ll keep Newt in check.”

Tina had to keep her eyebrows from shooting up. _What did_ that _mean?_ She managed a feeble smile as the couple walked away. Tina briefly met eyes with Theseus, who eyed her apologetically before turning away.

When they were far enough from sight, she turned on her stool to face the bar and let out a long breath of relief. Having agreed to attend this party, she knew there would be a big possibility of meeting Leta Lestrange, though she never really knew what to expect. Would she be unkind? Would she not even give a hoot about Tina? She certainly had a look that gave off that impression, at least initially. But Tina knew based on experience that first impressions were often false, or at the very least incredibly incomplete – you couldn’t know enough about a person from having a somewhat awkward conversation that lasted well under five minutes.

She looked up at a clock hanging above the shelves of beverages. Half past eight. _Newt...when are you going to get here?_

She’d spent the majority of the next half hour or so – which felt _much_ longer – at the bar, only leaving her spot to go to the washroom and to get some hors d’oeuvres from a nearby waiter. Her champagne glass still had a good amount in it; she resolved to taking small sips in case Newt took much longer to arrive. She’d also contemplated going back up to her room, but decided against it, as Newt could arrive any second…or so she hoped.

The guests seemed to be enjoying themselves; sounds of laughter would often be heard amidst the music and chitchat, and a few were moving merrily with their partners on the dancefloor.

She had just bitten down on a particularly tangy tasting hors d’oeuvre of greens and some sort of odd cheese when an older witch took a seat a few stools away from her, where Leta had been earlier. “Sherry, please,” she told the house elf. Her voice was gentle and soothing, but the first thing Tina noticed (observing from just the woman’s side profile) was light ginger hair,  streaked with some grey, pulled up and curled in soft waves. She was about Queenie’s height, and her dark green velvet dress contrasted her pale, freckled skin. Perhaps she had noticed Tina staring from her peripherals because she turned to her, giving a clear view of kind green eyes. A bulb went off in Tina’s head – _the same green eyes as…_

“Oh hello,” the woman greeted, giving Tina a wide, warm smile. “I’m so sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met,” she extended a hand. “I’m Helene Scamander, I’m the mother of the groom…well – groom- _to-be_ , I should say.” _­_

Tina put down her food, patting any crumbs off her gloves for good measure, and swallowing the remnants of it. “Yes,” Tina smiled back, shaking her hand. “I’m Porpentina Goldstein, I work as an auror for MACUSA.”

“Oh, of course! You’re that skilled young witch who helped my son capture Grindelwald. Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear!” Tina blushed; a skilled auror she may be, but she’d never quite gotten the hang of taking compliments. “I assume it was Newt who invited you?”

“Yes, but he’s um…he had an interview with The Daily Prophet and then got held up at a meeting with his publisher, but he said he’d be here.”

Mrs. Scamander hummed in understanding. “He’s been shying away from the fame. Never expected it, never wanted it. Always been a bit of an odd one out, he has; but we’ve always loved him just the same.”

Tina nodded in agreement. She liked Mrs. Scamander very much already. She had the same green eyes and freckled complexion, even the same wide smile. (Tina would never forget the first time she’d seen such a smile on Newt’s face: when the two of them were in his case with her sister and Jacob. She and Queenie had just finished singing the Ilvermorny school song…The boys applauded enthusiastically, and Newt was smiling from ear to ear. Tina remembered wanting nothing else than to see that smile from him more often).

Though clearly more socially adept than her younger son, Mrs. Scamander had the warmth and kindness that she passed onto him, and while that didn’t manifest in Newt’s interactions with humans, it certainly did in his interactions with his creatures.

The two women fell into an easy conversation, Mrs. Scamander had moved to sit next to Tina at some point, and Tina wasn’t sure how long they talked. Mrs. Scamander told her stories from Newt’s childhood ­(he mentioned in his letters that his mother bred hippogriffs and it was her involvement with them that got him interested in magical creatures at a very young age). Tina was laughing at an anecdote about how an 8-year-old Newt would be often be found asleep at the hippogriff stables in the morning – having escaped from his bedroom the previous night to be in their company – when Mrs. Scamander saw something over Tina’s shoulder that made her smile wider. Tina followed the older woman’s gaze and, for what easily felt like the millionth time that day, felt her heart give a start. This time, however, was one of the times that it would be for a pleasant reason.

Not far from the entrance stood Newt. He looked slightly out of breath, shoulders rising up and down as he looked around the room. He had dressed up for the occasion, donning the appropriate and well-tailored dress shirt, trousers, and dinner jacket; underneath which was a light yellow satin waistcoat that made him look a little more like his usual self. Even from afar, she could see Pickett peeping out his leafy head from his caretaker’s breast pocket. The author’s hair was still a mess, and his bow tie was a silky white instead of dark tweed, and though Tina felt odd seeing him not dressed in his usual garb, she still thought him incredibly handsome.

When his eyes finally landed where she was, he does a double take and then is unable to look away. Tina makes a conscious effort to take deep, slow breaths as she regards Newt in the same manner. They stay that way for a few moments, taking in each other’s appearances from afar, before Newt starts walking towards her.

She’s reminded of Mrs. Scamander’s presence when Newt is near enough, for his gaze tears away from her and goes towards his mother, whom he goes over to first and kisses on the cheek. “Mother,” he greets. It’s clear from this, and the way Mrs. Scamander lovingly cradles his cheeks when he’s pulled away, that the relationship between the two is a close one.

When Newt has completely pulled away from his mother’s embrace, his eyes land on Tina again, sparkling with awe. “Tina…” he starts. She’s always _loved_ the way he says her name, loved the marriage of accent and low, gentle – sometimes husky – voice that made her name sound sweeter than she’d ever imagined it would. “You look…” His eyes scan her form, before he seems to remember himself and looks back at her eyes. “You look stunning.”

Her heart beats faster and her face heats up (also for what felt like the millionth time that day), her gaze lowers for a second – a habit of hers when someone compliments her, especially when about her appearance – before it goes back up to his face. “Thank you.”

She wasn’t able to tell him how handsome he looked, because just then, a tall, older wizard came over and put an arm around Mrs. Scamander’s shoulders. “Newton, glad you could join us.” His voice is deep and rumbling, and he’s slightly taller than Newt. Dark brown hair with some flecks of gray was slicked back; and, as well as having a tanner complexion, he too was quite freckled.

“Father,” the Magizoologist curtly greeted, head now slightly bowed to hide under his hair ­– _definitely not his favorite parent then_ (though that much was clear from his letters). “Might I introduce Miss Porpentina Goldstein, one of MACUSA’s finest aurors. Tina, this is my father, Alfred Scamander.”

Tina’s polite smile falters to a feeble one when she notices the hesitation in Mr. Scamander’s dark eyes. She inwardly gulps, immediately thinking that this was about her last name. She’d never received much hostility about her heritage from American wizards, but then again, this was completely different territory…

But after a moment or so Mr. Scamander finally extends a hand to her, which she shakes, relieved. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Goldstein. Newton’s told us all about how you helped him capture Grindelwald as well as recapture his creatures…and in one of the biggest cities in the world, no less. I must commend you for possessing such skill, especially for a witch of your age.”

 _That_ was certainly unexpected, not that she was complaining. “Thank you,” she replies. When Tina thinks back to this conversation later on, she’ll scold herself for forgetting to bring up how she and Newt had help from Jacob and Queenie, but she’s so pleasantly surprised by Mr. Scamander’s demeanor towards her that Jacob and Queenie have slipped her mind.

There’s a moment of slightly uncomfortable silence between the four before Mrs. Scamander pipes up. “Darling, I don’t believe we’ve greeted Fellandra just yet,” then, turning to Tina, “please excuse us. And it was very lovely to meet you, dear.”

Tina smiles at them as they walk away and then turns to Newt. She’s gotten off her stool now. “Hi,” she says, trying to catch his eye.

Newt meets her eye then smiles, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Hello,” he says.

“How was your meeting with Mr. Worme?”

“He says that a second edition of the book is looking very likely, and that they’re already planning more research trips as we speak. He’s also asked me to clear my schedule as they’re trying to see if they can get me to do book signings abroad.”

“Newt, that’s amazing!” Tina marveled, beaming at him. Newt’s face flushed as he looked towards the floor again, a small smile still on his face. “Do you have any idea what this could all mean? Your book is changing the wizarding world for the better.” Newt was still blushing, but still wasn’t saying anything, so she continued. “I know the fame might be a big downside, but think about what your book is doing. This is what you wanted – to change people’s perceptions on magical creatures, and that’s what you’re doing!”

“Yes, erm…” he finally said. Then he lifted his gaze from the floor, looking her in the eye, and her heart skipped a beat. “Tina, would you–”

“ _Newton!_ ”

Tina was the one to turn towards the sound of the voice, just missing the flash of initial annoyance on Newt’s face shift to one of dread. Pickett, who had been peeking his little face out since Newt’s parents left, let out a terrified chirp before completely hiding himself inside Newt’s pocket.

The source of the voice was a short, plump, middle aged woman with curly bright red hair – likely from a bottle, by the looks of it –  wearing too much rouge on her cheeks and even more strings of pearls around her stout neck. When she came up to Newt and Tina, Tina saw that the old lady only rose up to Newt’s shoulders. She also smelled strongly of Sherry.

“Newton dear, it’s been _far_ too long,” she said in a rounded, melodic voice, sounding much like an opera singer even as she spoke, and pulled Newt down by the back of his neck so she could plant a wet kiss to each of his cheeks, leaving faint lipstick stains on them. Tina had to bite her lips to keep herself from giggling at the look of suppressed annoyance on Newt’s face.

“Cousin Mildred,” Newt greeted, evidently putting in a tremendous effort to sound pleased. Tina could also tell he was trying his best not to wipe his cheeks in front of her. “This is Miss Porpentina Goldstein, she works as an auror for MACUSA; Tina, this is my Cousin Mildred.”

“First cousin twice removed,” Mildred said as if to correct him. She barely gave notice to Tina – not that the latter minded all that much, anyway she was content with watching the rather amusing exchange in front of her – and kept her attention on Newt, bringing both hands up to his cheeks. “Now, Newton, you simply _must_ tell me all about your book. The Prophet’s been talking non-stop about how well it’s been doing!”

“Well I–” Newt started to say, but Mildred’s hands had wandered from his cheeks down to his arms.

“My _dear_ , you’ve certainly bulked up since I saw you last,” she gave each bicep a squeeze, and Newt’s cheeks flamed to nearly match the lipstick stains she left on them. “It seems as though working with beasts may be more physical than I thought. Now, how’s about a dance to catch me up? It’s not every day I find myself related to Britain’s current best-selling author!”

Whatever Newt had wanted to say to that was lost when she pulled him by the hand and started to lead him to the dance floor. Before they could get too far away, however, Pickett emerged from his pocket and skipped half way down Newt’s upper arm before jumping off. Tina, glad for her quick reflexes, caught him on the palms of her hands. The bowtruckle walked up to her arm and came to rest on her right shoulder. This went completely unnoticed by Mildred but not by Newt, who, as he was being dragged to the dance floor, was still facing Tina and Pickett’s direction. He shot his plant-like friend a slightly reprimanding look. Tina turned her face towards her shoulder in time to see Pickett blow Newt a raspberry. The Magizoologist pursed his lips ruefully at this and turned to Tina, who was chuckling at their exchange, with an embarrassed and apologetic look on his face; he seemed to have accepted he wouldn’t be able to escape this. Tina only smiles, hoping this conveyed that she didn’t mind and that she was rather amused by the whole thing. Having reached the dancefloor, Newt gave her one last apologetic smile before Mildred lead him to dance.

Tina turned to the bowtruckle perched on her shoulder. “Hi Pickett,” she said softly, smiling at him. The bowtruckle smiled back and let out a happy chirp. “Guess it’s just you and me for a while.” She pinched the fabric of her dress by the waist to show him her wand pocket, smiling conspiratorially. “Want to hop in?”

Pickett gave a merry squeak and climbed down her dress to her wand pocket. She chuckled as she watched him disappear inside.

When the song finishes and Mildred lets him go, Newt walks over to Tina, scratching the back of his neck and looking very relieved. Tina and Pickett (head poking out of the wand pocket) had seen Mildred lead Newt to a rather brisk dance that the latter had struggled to keep up with, all the while it seemed former was trying to converse with him. Tina grins at him as he comes over and he grins back. Pickett then hops out of her wand pocket; the auror notices and lifts a hand with her palm facing downwards to help the bowtruckle back to his caretaker. Newt accepts him onto the back of his own hand gratefully.

“Bit hurtful of you to just leave me like that, Pick,” he tells him, “though I suppose I can’t really blame you.” He moves his hand up towards his shoulder so that Pickett can hop on, turning his head slightly towards the side, and that’s when Tina notices there’s still some remnants of coral colored lipstick on his cheeks, though he’d evidently already made an effort to wipe it off.

“You’ve got some…” she lifts a gloved hand to his face, and he immediately he understands, looking, but making no move to stop her from wiping the lipstick off with her thumb. It’s after she’s examined his other cheek that she feels his gaze on her. Face warming, she finally looks at him and feels her heart jolt when she sees the way he’s regarding her.

However, her gaze darts away from his and her hand flies from his cheek when they hear a fork tapping a glass; Pickett jumps back into Newt’s pocket. Mr. and Mrs. Scamander were in the middle of the dancefloor with Theseus, Leta, an older, dark-skinned woman who she guessed was Leta’s mother (whom three women had been gossiping about), and a dark-skinned man who looked to be in his 40s. All six of them held their own glass of champagne. The tapping ceased, and the guests had all backed away from the dancefloor to surround the small group.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you all for coming,” Mr. Scamander spoke. “Tonight we celebrate the union of two families,” he looked to Theseus and Leta, smiling, “in light of the forthcoming union of two very special people. Leta, Laurena, Yusuf,” he said, looking towards the three as he said their names. “It is an honor to welcome you all to our family.”

A slew of champagne-filled flutes flew from the bar to the dancefloor to the guests’ hands; Tina soon had her own (her first glass had been left completely forgotten on the bar table since Newt’s arrival) and so did Newt.

“I’d like to invite you all to raise your glasses to the happy couple – my son, Theseus, and his beautiful bride-to-be, Miss Leta Lestrange. May your love be strong enough for the times ahead and tender enough to last a lifetime.” Then, raising his glass, “To Theseus and Leta.”

Murmurs of joyful agreement and “to Theseus and Leta,” came from the guests as they lifted their glasses for the couple. Tina looked over to Newt as she courteously lifted her own glass and felt her heart sink when she saw he was looking towards the floor, his jaw set and the hand holding his glass still lowered. Applause sounded from the guests, and Tina turned back towards the dancefloor to see Theseus had leaned down to plant a kiss on his fiancée’s lips. She slowly lowered her own glass out of sympathy for her friend, though she eventually heard him mutter a half-hearted, “Theseus and Leta,” before seeing him take a hurried swig of his drink from the corner of her eye.

What could she say to try to make him feel better? _Should_ she say anything? Should she take his hand and give it a squeeze instead? But what if he reads the gesture wrong and pulls away from her? After all, he’s never talked about what happened with Leta, and considering what was happening at the moment, that was probably the last thing he wanted to do.

“And now,” came the voice of the vocalist, bringing Tina out of her thoughts. A lot of the guests had now sent their champagne flutes flying back to the bar. “I’d like to ask each wizard to invite their dear witches to dance to our last two songs for this evening.”

As the orchestra began to play the first few bars of a slow waltz and the lights dimmed, Tina watched as several wizards in the room invited witches to dance with them; Theseus and Leta, of course, took to the center. The two seemed to know only the other’s presence in the room; Theseus’s usual smirk now replaced by a warm lopsided smile as he looked down at his fiancée. Not too far from them, Mr. and Mrs. Scamander were dancing too. Mr. Scamander’s reserved and slightly intimidating exterior seemed to have thawed into sincerity and gentleness in the presence of his wife. Tina smiled, reminded of the way her own parents used to look at each other. She did not doubt that if they were still alive, they would look at each other the same way.

Suddenly aware of all the affection permeating the ballroom between each dancing couple, as well as of Newt’s presence beside her, Tina began to look anywhere but towards the Magizoologist’s direction, trying to busy herself with thinking about how beautiful the ballroom looked. Knowing that the sight of Leta with his older brother must be breaking him, she didn’t want Newt to feel obligated to ask her to–

“Tina?”

Something about the softness of his voice made her unable to keep herself from turning to him. She gulped upon seeing the look in his eyes. “Yes?”

“Would you like to dance?” He didn’t take his eyes off hers for a second, and Tina found she couldn’t look away either.

“Yes,” it came out as a whisper, but she knew he heard it anyway, and after they both sent their glasses flying back to the bar, she took the hand he offered – feeling its warmth even through her glove – and let him lead her to the dancefloor as the vocalist began to sing.

_You're in my arms_

_And all the world is calm_

_The music playing on for only two_

_So close together_

_And when I'm with you_

_So close to feeling alive_

Their walk to the dancefloor was slow, and when they reached it, they turned to each other and briefly met eyes before Newt looked away to lower his right hand to rest on her waist, pulling her close. He lifted his left, allowing her to grasp it with her right as she rested her left on his shoulder. They locked eyes again and began to waltz.

_A life goes by_

_Romantic dreams must die_

_So I bid my goodbye_

_And never knew_

_So close, was waiting_

_Waiting here with you_

_And now, forever, I know_

Tina was relieved that she still remembered the gist of a waltz from dances at Ilvermorny: _back step, side step, close; front step, side step, close. It’s just a box step, Goldstein; no need to be so nervous_.

Newt didn’t seem to be having any trouble, gliding effortlessly through each step; whereas she struggled to keep her feet in time with the moves she was mentally reciting, her own steps lagging behind Newt’s by a half second. He seemed to notice this, for he tried to adjust his pace so she could keep up, though they both found that following the original pace was better as it followed the beat of the music. “I didn’t know you were so good at this.”

Even in the dimmer lighting she could see him blush. “That’s all thanks to some rather tedious dance lessons my parents arranged for me and Theseus to attend when we were growing up.”

The corners of her lips turned up as she imagined a young Newt learning how to waltz. “Oh?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her voice.

He only blushed harder. “Yes...for society balls and such, which I always tried to get myself out of.”

She chuckled at that. She was starting to get the hang of it now, her steps in time with his as they circled their area of the dancefloor. “Did you have dances at Hogwarts?”

“They hosted one every few years...but I, erm, never attended,” his eyes flickered away from hers when he spoke.

Sensing his discomfort, she felt her smile falter. “Oh.”

“Did you have dances at Ilvermorny?” he asked, meeting her eyes again.

“They hosted one every few years too,” she answered. Now it was her turn to avert her gaze. “There were two while I was there. I didn’t go to the first one, but Queenie made me go to the second. I left early.”

She looked back at him to see him nod at her confession, understanding evident in his eyes, and she felt relieved when he didn’t ask her anything more about it. The two fell into a comfortable silence, content with looking into each other’s eyes as they continued to dance.

He was looking at her that way again–the way she’d imagined he would in all her best dreams. She searched his face, hoping she wasn’t imagining any of this.

Then the hand on her waist let go and he stepped back to twirl her around. When she was facing him again and had been pulled close to him once more, the look in his eyes hadn’t gone.

_All that I want is_

_To hold you so close_

How in the name of Deliverance Dane was she supposed to focus on trying to set aside her feelings for this man when he was making it _so damn difficult_ for her? _Well, it’s too late now_.

Her breath hitched when his gaze lowered from her eyes to her lips for just a second. When his eyes met hers again, they shone with an adoration that took her breath away. Then, slowly letting out a breath, Tina determinedly allowed herself to just _be_ with him in that moment, putting her trust in both Newt and herself as the music swelled.

_So close to reaching_

_That famous happy end_

_Almost believing_

_This one's not pretend_

They moved in perfect time together – Tina would later reflect that dance steps came much easier to a person when they stopped thinking too much. His eyes never left her as he held her with absolute reverence, seamlessly leading her through every step and turn while allowing her to glide through her own steps – guiding her whilst also trusting her completely. _Catching her, always_.

She felt much lighter on her feet now – not only because she was dancing with Newt but also now that she’d left her doubts about dancing behind, she was enjoying herself much more, and she couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across her lips. Newt beamed back at her, the corners of his shining eyes crinkling.

_And now you're beside me_

_And look how far we've come_

_So far we are, so close_

He spun her again. Her heart was still racing, though it was no longer from fear but from being so close to him. He pulled her to him, closer this time, so that their chests were touching and their noses brushing; and she wondered if he could feel her heart pounding.

Their dancing had toned down to a slower swaying. Tina dared her own glance towards Newt’s lips, then looked away almost as quickly – the desire to kiss them was a tad too strong. She took in a breath to focus herself and ended up being distracted by his scent. Even in a tuxedo that he seldom wore, he still smelled strongly of _Newt_ : of earth, herbs, parchment, and freshly mown grass. Letting out a breath, she let the hand on his shoulder wrap around behind him below the back of his neck. Newt mirrored her actions by moving his hand on her waist to the small of her back, holding her ever closer against him. She rested her chin on his shoulder, and her eyes fluttered shut when her cheek brushed his. Something inside her chest melted when she felt him lean in, pressing their cheeks closer together, and she sighed. His skin was warm against hers, and suddenly she very easily fell back into thinking about those freckled lips of his – how, if she were to turn her head ever so slightly, she could press a kiss to the side of his face, then, if he made no move to object – and if she had the nerve – she would gladly kiss a trail from his cheeks to his lips.

_Oh how could I face the faceless days_

_If I should lose you now?_

_We're so close to reaching_

_That famous happy end_

She shut eyes tighter when they started to sting with tears, trying to rein in her emotions. It was becoming too much, and she wasn’t even sure he felt the same way. The most she could do was to try be in the moment with him, for she knew it could all be over too soon.

The music continued to build, but the two remained gently swaying as they held each other.

_Almost believing_

_This one's not pretend_

_Let's go on dreaming_

_For we know we are_

_So close, so close_

_And still so far_

She wished the song didn’t have to end, but when it did and she pulled back to look at Newt, she found his expression had something else in it now…something that looked rather like pain. She hoped it was because he didn’t want the song to end either, but her instinct told her it was something else.

The guests had broken into applause, and the vocalist said something about ending the night with a cheerier, more upbeat song; but neither Newt nor Tina heard it. As a swingy new melody started to play, Newt asked, “Would you like to go for a walk outside?”

They walked out of the mansion to the gardens. Up ahead were low-rising hedges that formed a small maze (just a tad larger than the bedroom she’d been allowed to stay in) surrounding the fountain – a dark grey sculpture of a majestic hippogriff poised in mid-flight at the center of a small, circular pool of water and water lilies.

Tina tries to contain the shiver that overcomes her, but the cold is too persistent. Newt notices and immediately shrugs off his jacket and sets it on her shoulders. She voices her thanks and slips her arms into the armholes, sighing inwardly when she felt how warm the fabric was from his body.

“Spring has never been very eager to arrive in England, I’m afraid.”

She hums in agreement, looking up at the star-speckled sky. There’s so much more of them to see here in the English countryside than in New York.

“I’m sure you’re wondering about Leta,” he said after several moments of silence. Heart rate picking up again, she turned to look at him. His eyes were downcast, set on the ground ahead of them as they walked, deep in thought.

“Newt…you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t–”              

“No,” the firmness of his voice got her. He’d stopped walking to turn to her, making her halt in her steps, and her heart twisted when she saw that his eyes were pained and pleading. “I have to talk about this, Tina…you deserve to know.”

She nodded and followed him to the fountain. They sat down on the edge, and she kept her eyes on him the whole time, patiently waiting for him to begin.

“When I was at Hogwarts,” he began after a few moments, eyes downcast and hands grasping his knees. “I didn’t have friends, didn’t fit in. I only had one friend, and that was Leta. She didn’t really fit in either, and we both had an interest in magical creatures…that was how we became friends, and for most of our years at Hogwarts, we were inseparable. We were only ever friends, but…at a certain point, I had begun to fancy her…not that I ever told her.

“In the middle of our sixth year, Leta’s family fell apart – her father left them and ran off with another woman. To make matters worse, the whole affair became a scandal; the news had spread throughout practically the whole wizarding society in Britain…Everyone at school found out and some were cruel enough to give her hell for it…she was so affected by it all that I didn’t see her at any of our classes for days. I tried to look for her of course…but she was good at hiding away.

“There was this one boy in our year who was particularly ruthless…” it was evidently getting more difficult to get the next words out, “and one day I found him and Leta having a row at the Forbidden Forest…and after he said something especially hurtful, she set a Jarvey on him.”

A pause after Newt’s voice breaks on the last few words. Then he inhales deeply, gathering strength. “But it went too far. Leta instantly regretted it. We…we had to stun the Jarvey to get it off him, but the boy…Sebastian…he was unconscious by that time. I told Leta we had to get him to the hospital wing, but she started yelling and crying, because then they would ask how he ended up getting hurt…either way it wouldn’t end well if we took him there ourselves.”

“After a while, she took a step towards Sebastian…then she Obliviated him,” another pause and Tina sees his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down several times before he continues, “I tried to stop her from doing it…told her to reverse it, but she told me the only known way to restore a person’s memory was through torture…and when I told her she shouldn’t have done it – shouldn’t have set the Jarvey on him – she told me not to tell anyone or else she’d Obliviate me too.”

Newt takes deep, slightly shaky breaths as he hangs his head. She’s reminded of the time the two of them were in a jail cell with Jacob: Newt sat dolefully in the corner, wiping his eyes as his voice shook in a similar way, talking about the eight year-old Sudanese girl who was killed by her Obscurus. Her heart had twisted unsettlingly inside her as she’d started to realize that he wasn’t a threat after all, that he’d had good intentions the whole time…. Her heart broke in the same way now as she awaited the rest of his story. Unable to stop herself, she reaches out for one of his hands – still grasping his knee – and gently starts to stroke the back of it with her thumb. Newt looks at their hands for a second before facing his upwards to firmly grasp hers, entwining their fingers.

“We left him there to be found and set the Jarvey aside at a safe distance. But it wasn’t long before Sebastian woke up and was found. He was taken to the hospital wing…he’d attained several broken bones from the incident. His parents, understandably, were livid. The headmaster gathered all the students and professors and swore he wouldn’t rest until they found out what happened and who caused it.

“I tried…I tried to go along with it. I tried to forget about it…but I barely lasted a week,” Tina’s heart sank – she had a gut feeling about where this was going and she didn’t like it. “Outside of classes, the professors had begun to question students about where they were, what they were doing when it happened. I didn’t even wait for them to get to me; I went to the headmaster’s office and told him I had done it…that I set the Jarvey on Sebastian and Obliviated him. I told him it was because…because I didn’t like Sebastian; because he was a bully who’d been victimizing me and my friend.

“Professor Dumbledore heard about it and tried to reason with him. He must have known even then that it was all a lie…but it wasn’t enough. The headmaster wrote to my parents immediately.

“I didn’t tell Leta I was going to take the blame for her…she didn’t ask me to do it either. I knew that if she got expelled, it would mean putting her family through another scandal…that’s why she couldn’t admit to any of it. The truth is that I felt guilty, somehow,” Tina’s face scrunched up in confusion and disbelief – _how_ could he have felt guilty when _none of it was his fault_ ? “You see, I could have made more of an effort to look for her when she was…maybe all she needed was someone to talk to…She was my only friend, and I was _her_ only friend.” Tina closed her eyes and slowly let out a breath, inwardly shaking her head. _Oh, Newt_.

“Mother and father came the next day to meet with the headmaster and Sebastian’s parents…then they took me home. Leta saw me as I was leaving Hogwarts…but she didn’t say anything or do anything. I didn’t see her after that for a long time…she never tried to make contact with me.”

In the pain-filled pause that follows, tears had begun to form in Tina’s eyes, but she was determined to stay strong for him. She had also moved closer to him now, her other hand rubbing circles on his arm with her thumb. She wanted to say something, wished she knew what to say, but Newt let out another puff of air – a feeble attempt to shake off some pain – and continued.

“One day, not long after I returned from New York, Theseus asked if he could see me. He told me he’d been courting Leta for some time, and that he wanted to ask her to marry him…but he knew how I felt about her when we were in school, and he didn’t want to go through with it without telling me first,” he stops momentarily as he continues to gaze desolately at the ground. “I told him if he wanted to propose to her then he should do just that.”

“A few weeks later, Leta came into my office at the Ministry. She was wearing a ring on her finger. That was when she finally apologized to me for what happened at school. I told her that I wasn’t quite ready to forgive her just yet…even if it _was_ a long time ago.

“That was when I realized that perhaps she _had_ changed…” he trails off and turns towards her, eyes trained on her lap first before looking up to meet her own. His was expression pained and his eyes were brimming with unshed tears. He seemed torn, choosing his next words carefully, or probably wondering if he should say them at all; and Tina holds her breath for whatever would be coming next. “But perhaps…perhaps I haven’t changed as much as I thought I had.”

There’s a beat as Tina registers what he means, and then it _clicks_ and her heart drops to her stomach. She searches his face first, trying desperately to look for some sign that what he said means something other than what she thinks…but doesn’t find any.

She’s not sure what breaks her more: how broken he looked when he’d said those words or the words themselves. More tears started to fill her eyes and she let herself take her own shaky breaths. It’s her turn to look away too, letting go of his hands and ducking her head low as emotion takes over.

“Tina…I’m so so–”

She looks up at him almost immediately, tears be damned. “Don’t you dare,” she whispers shakily. “This is _not your fault_.”

Newt lets out a short, bitter laugh. They sit in silence for a few moments, both of them now looking towards the ground and slumped brokenly on the edge of the fountain. “When I left New York, I felt that I had begun to…to develop feelings for you. And when I saw you this afternoon, that was when I knew for sure…I _do_ have feelings for you, Tina. And in my excitement, I feel that I – I _know_ …that I’ve done some things since then that might have led you to believe that I was ready for something more.”

“But wanting you isn’t enough, Tina, I know that now…” She sees him turn to look at her from the corner of her eye. “You deserve someone who not only wants you but also knows without the slightest doubt that he can give himself fully to you.”

She wills herself to look at him too, biting hard on her bottom lip to hold back a sob. His cheeks were wet with his tears now, and she knows it won’t be long before her own tears fall too. She shifts her gaze down to the space between them on the concrete of the fountain; their hands were resting next to each other, but no longer touching. “Maybe...maybe you just need more time.” She hates how pathetic it sounds when she finally hears herself say it, but it’s out there now.

Newt gives a bitter chuckle, but he’s so wracked with pain that it almost sounds like a sob. She looks up at him again: he’s looking down at their hands now too, mouth twitching to form a sad smile. “Maybe,” he agrees, and it does seem as though he genuinely believes it. But then his eyebrows furrow and he bites his lip before voicing a new worry, “but what if…what if by the time I’ve…changed…you’ve changed too? That is, if you…if you feel the same way?” He asks as he looks up at her, and the look on his face is one of both hurt and hope.

“Yes,” she breathes, finally letting her tears fall. “Yes, I do.” He nods as his face scrunches up in pain and more tears fall from his own eyes. It’s all either of them can do to keep themselves from sobbing freely. He’s turned away again, his head hanging low and his eyes squeezed shut.

It becomes clear to her what needs to be done. With deep, shaky breaths, she takes off his jacket – immediately feeling the absence of its warmth, _his_ warmth – leans over and carefully places it back on his shoulders. At this, he looks up at her, eyes red and puffy.

“But...there are some things that don’t ever change.” Before she can see him react to that she leans even closer, grasps his hand – he grasps hers tightly in return –  and plants a kiss on his wet cheek. When she withdraws her lips, she lingers for a moment, taking in their closeness, but it hurts too much to stay this way. So she stands up and moves to walk away, feeling thankful yet all the more heartbroken when he managed to let go of her hand without a fuss.

She’d only taken a few steps towards the house when she hears a tiny, broken chirp that makes her stop in her steps. Her head starts to turn towards the source, but she catches herself. Turning back, apologizing and saying goodbye would only make things more unbearable – for all of them, if Pickett was as devastated as he sounded. Gathering the last of her strength, she continues her long, painful walk back to the house. _I’m so sorry, Pickett. Look after him._

When she reaches her room – thankfully not having run into Theseus, Leta, or Mr. and Mrs. Scamander on the way – it takes all her effort not break down once the door is closed. She needs to get out of the estate first.

She takes out her wand and wordlessly transfigures her dress back to her work blouse and trousers, then uses it to summon the leather coat she’d left on the bed earlier. After buttoning up and tying the belt around her coat, she opens her suitcase and sees the navy blue evening dress folded neatly, along with her gift for Queenie, her paperwork and other personal effects…but there’s something missing.

She looks up and sees the scarlet book on the nightstand. She goes over to it and takes it, puts it into her case, then swiftly closes the case – quick like a band aid. After letting out another breath, she wipes any remaining wetness off her face and grabs her case by the handle. The fireplace in her room must not be linked with the Floo Network as there’s no jar of floo powder anywhere in sight, but travel by Floo is her best bet in unfamiliar territory.

She disapparates to the drawing room, which is dark as thankfully there’s no one else there, and takes a handful of Floo Powder for the Leaky Cauldron.

Once she’s booked a room, she shuts the door, lets her case fall to the floor with a thud and collapses on the bed, letting her tears flow freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! And before you come at me saying that it’s unrealistic to include that song not because it’s from 2007 and this is set in 1927 but because it’s a song about unrequited love playing at an engagement party, let me just say that….well….I needed to indulge.
> 
> Despite the angsty song choice, I originally planned this fic to end with tooth-rotting fluff (as you might have seen that tag when I posted the first chapter) but the Buzzfeed interview came out while I was writing this chapter and broke my damn heart, especially since the still of Newt with Tina’s photo in his case that came out just a few days before gave me hope. So I played with the idea of ending this fic angsty until I actually did.
> 
> Footnotes:  
> 1\. I didn’t include any anti-Jewish sentiments, at least not explicitly, since there’s reason for us to be unsure of how wizards would regard that because, so far as we know, they’ve always been more concerned about blood status more than things like color, ethnicity, or religion (which is almost never mentioned in HP). The President of MACUSA is a dark-skinned woman (at least relatively dark anyway) after all. I’m not in any way trying to erase historical prejudices, I’m simply clueless as to whether those exact prejudices apply to the wizarding world since they are clearly carry their own prejudices. We’ll just have to wait and see if (and which) muggle prejudices also apply in the wizarding world.  
> 2\. Regarding Leta’s family, I got some information (which I’m not even sure are true) from Harry Potter Wiki and had my fun making guesses from that. The gossip from the three women about Leta’s family contain some truths based on what we know so far (Corvus eloping with Clarisse Tremblay, who is speculated to be Credence’s mother) and some falsehoods I invented.  
> 3\. I really didn’t want to vilify Leta since I’m genuinely interested in her character, so I left her present-day version as mysterious for the moment. Any unflattering sentiment towards her in this chapter is due to the largely Tina-centric perspective (though I even wrote Tina as not wanting to judge her too quickly); and what Leta did to Newt (and Sebastian) was out of a desperate need to stay in school so as not to cause her family more scandal. It’s harsh, but you’d be surprised what lengths some people will go to keep their world from completely falling apart.  
> 4\. On a nerdier note, there’s a theory on YouTube based on the screenshot of the Lestrange family tree from the teaser that Laurena Kama (Leta’s mother) may have been a muggle, making Leta a half-blood (that could be another explanation as to why she didn’t fit in). This is something that really intrigues me. Watch [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hp_SIfBRBss) and let me know what you think! The part about the family tree starts at about 10:45.  
> 5\. Mrs. Scamander is based on Eddie Redmayne’s stories about his own mother, who he says is whom he got his big, wide mouth (and smile!) from.
> 
> Let me know if you’re interested in reading the original fluffy ending and I may just whip it up! If most of you are not interested in reading the full thing it but still want to know, I’ll gladly tell you the summary in the comments or message it to you privately, though it will depend on what the majority of you decide. I think it would be very cruel of me to just tell you the happy ending when I denied you of it, so I’ll leave it to you to decide.
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading! I hope to see you again if I’m ever this inspired to write again. I’m actually planning a Newtina Doctor Who AU, and I am very excited about it! Please let me know your thoughts on that (if you’re a Doctor Who fan) as well as what you think about this story/chapter! You can also find me on tumblr @ clairfoye.


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